Chapter 57
The police took Diane Lindsay out of Channel 6 News in cuffs. Like wolves who eat their young, Diane’s camera crew and producers hovered around every moment of the arrest, capturing their former colleague’s humiliation for the late show. Maybe they’d get a raise.
I didn’t get a final word with Diane like they do in the movies. Didn’t really want one. Whatever there had been between us was gone. Left for dead in an ugly tangle, somewhere on the road from Kansas to Chicago. Instead, I got in my car and headed toward the Loop.
“Did she tell you where they were going?”
It was Rodriguez on the phone. He had crashed Davis’ office after my call and found nothing. The assistant DA had somehow slipped out of the County Building.
“She told me nothing,” I said. “Except Mary Beth was going to take him.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t shoot him on the spot.”
“Yeah.”
I was driving south on Michigan Avenue, crossed over the river, and into the Loop.
“I’m two minutes out,” I said. “Where are you?”
“We’re cordoning off three blocks all around and searching County, floor by floor.”
“I’ll be right there. Tell your guys to let me through.”
I hung up and cruised south past Randolph. I was about to turn right when I caught a flash of blond walking up the steps into Millennium Park. I knew that flash of blond, and I especially knew the soon-to-be-dead attorney walking close beside her.
I double-parked in front of the Cultural Center. A meter maid was yelling at me a half-block away. Then I pulled my gun, and she started yelling louder. I thought that was a good thing and crossed over Michigan into Millennium.
As I got to the top of the steps I saw Mary Beth. She was weaving her way through a sparse midday crowd, around the outdoor skating rink, and up toward a sculpture Chicagoans call the “Bean.” Its official name is Cloudgate, but it looks like a big aluminum bean and reflects everything around it in a 360-degree, sort of fish-eye effect. As I approached, a man and woman came out one side of the Bean. He wore overalls, a Carhartt jacket, and Packers hat. She wore a Green Bay jacket open to a sweatshirt that said FUCK WITH ME AND YOU FUCK WITH THE WHOLE TRAILER PARK.
I waited until the Packer fans had safely made their way to a hot dog stand. Then I walked into the Bean, gun stuffed into my pocket. Mary Beth and Davis were standing to one side. I stood opposite them. In between us was the kindergarten class, twenty-five strong, from Presentation Grammar School. Mary Beth caught my eye in the reflection from the roof of the Bean. The fish-eye effect made it hard to judge exactly how far away she was. It seemed like miles. I was beginning to work my way through the kids when a hand tugged at my sleeve.
It was a woman, early thirties. Presentation’s kindergarten teacher, no doubt.
“Could you take a picture for us?”
I shoved the gun deeper into my pocket, smiled, and grabbed the camera. Mary Beth pushed Bennett Davis toward the outer edge of the Bean. I noticed a dark smear of blood where Davis had leaned up against the aluminum. Then they were gone. I snapped the picture and moved after them.
Mary Beth headed past a yellow-slickered security guard riding one of those Segway people movers and looking awfully important. Then she ducked left into the Pritzker Pavilion, the Millennium’s outdoor music venue. I followed her to the deserted stage and stopped about ten feet away. Mary Beth dumped Bennett Davis against a riser and stepped back.
“So you figured it all out, Mr. Detective. Bravo.”
Mary Beth was talking to me but kept her eyes and gun trained on Davis. He had been shot once in the side and looked over at me, scared. He mouthed some words but nothing came out. I had my gun out now and drew down.
“Drop the gun, Mary Beth. This is over.”
“Not yet, sir. Not just yet.”
Davis crouched against the riser, covered the side of his head, and tried to make himself smaller. At a range of five feet, it wasn’t working.
“Diane’s in custody, Mary Beth. Whatever you get, she gets. If nothing else, do your sister a favor and drop the gun.”
“Already killed five, Kelly. How much better is it going to get for Diane?”
“I don’t know. But you pull the trigger here and it’s a death case.”
“Really?”
Mary Beth lowered her weapon an inch or so and looked over. As she was looking at me, she fired once into Davis’ chest.
“Oops,” she said.
Bennett Davis crumpled to the ground. I moved forward. Davis was still alive, wheezing blood through his mouth. I reached for Mary Beth’s gun. She fired again just as I got to her. The second shot did its job.
Mary Beth collapsed at a right angle to Davis. The round took off most of the back of her head. Her face, however, was still perfect. Lips full, mouth parted, and just a hint of a smile. Just like Frankie Pentangeli in The Godfather Part II, Mary Beth had done what she thought was the right thing. Too bad there was no family left to look after.
I closed my former client’s eyes just as a hand clawed at my ankle. It was Davis. From the sound of things he had been shot in a lung and was drowning in his own blood. Not a pleasant way to go. His hand gripped my calf, and he raised his head to make eye contact. In his case, a final sort of eye contact. I thought of a Saturday morning and Nicole, under the Chicago El tracks. I removed his hand and walked out from under the pavilion. I wasn’t sure exactly what Bennett Davis deserved, but this was probably as good as it was going to get.
I found my way over to the concession stand, stepped inside, and ordered a red-hot drug through the garden. The Packer fans stood nearby, eating a double order of cheese fries. Each.
“So is Favre all done?” I said.
They smiled and started in. I listened and nodded. In the distance I could hear sirens. That would be Rodriguez, followed probably by Masters. They’d get here soon enough.